•
45
Kelly Talbot
Glistening Nectarine canyon walls glisten in the afternoon sun, auburn strata, layers of eons of fossils sinking. Lizard crawling, cotton clinging to back, collar rubbing against neck— delineations of amber and mahogany, honey and burnt sierra, whiskey and bar top— breathing ragged, fingers trembling. It has been three days since my last shot— solar fire and hard stone. Keep walking. Each breath, a generation, each step, a mutation, burying my reptile brain under mammalian silt in my slow evolution into a stronger species.
2020
